


When Their Lips Meet

by mistleto3



Series: Beginnings [2]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 05:14:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8191549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistleto3/pseuds/mistleto3
Summary: The first time Mikoto and Tatara kiss.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This piece can also be found on [Tumblr.](http://mistleto-3.tumblr.com/post/151260268664/beginnings-part-3)

The sound of Tatara’s phone ringing roused him from the nap taken on the couch in Mikoto’s room. He groaned in protest at the rude awakening and the aching in the back of his neck, and without opening his eyes, he groped about for the source of the noise until his hand closed around it. Trying to muffle the sound of a yawn, he lifted the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Totsuka-san, you still at the bar?” The voice belonged to Izumo, but he was speaking quietly, as though he didn’t want to be overheard. Tatara finally opened his eyes to glance blearily up at the clock as he listened; it was half-past midnight, so he supposed Izumo and Mikoto would be on their way home soon. The pair had gone on a bar crawl together (against Mikoto’s will; Izumo had decided he needed to get out more), and Tatara had volunteered to stay behind and take care of Anna in their absence.

“Yeah, I am. What’s up?”

“We got ambushed by a couple o’ wise guys on the way back to Homra,” Izumo explained.

Tatara sat up straight, his tiredness evaporating instantly at the news. “Are you both okay?”

“Of course, of course. A few thugs ain’t a match for Mikoto-san. It looks like they were the scraps of that drug ring we raided recently, they spotted us walking and decided to take out their vendetta while we were outnumbered. Looks like one of ‘em was a strain, so we called the Golds and I’m waiting here for ‘em to pick him up and get him to the relevant authorities.”

“As long as you aren’t hurt…”

“Nah, neither of us are hurt, but Mikoto-san doesn’t seem to be in a good way. I sent him on ahead, so he should be back there any minute.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Ah, I think his powers got a little out of hand; he was a bit more heavy-handed with ‘em than he planned to be, and you know how he gets kinda spooked when that happens,” Izumo explained. “So I just wanted to let ya know so you can make sure he’s alright when he gets back there.”

“Of course, thanks for telling me.”

“Is Anna okay?”

“Yeah, sound asleep.”

“Alright, good. I’ll be on my way back once the Rabbits show up, so I’ll be around if you need me, but I know you’re more than capable of calmin’ him down.”

“Alright, thank you.”

Izumo hung up, and Tatara sighed, throwing the blanket off himself and folding it up just to occupy himself with something as he waited for Mikoto to get back to the bar. Once he’d returned it to the cupboard, he took a seat on the top step.

After a few minutes, Tatara heard the bell above the door chime, and he got to his feet and trotted down the stairs.

Mikoto’s expression was blank and unreadable as usual as he entered the bar, but there was something different about his eyes; they seemed darker, sunken. His hands were stuffed in his pockets.

“King, are you alright?”

“Mm,” Mikoto affirmed, but there was no conviction in his voice.

“Want a beer?” Tatara offered; he seemed like he could use a drink.

“Somethin’ stronger,” Mikoto replied, and Tatara patted him on the arm as he padded over to the bar to pour him a generous glass of whiskey. Mikoto gave a grunt of thanks as he handed him the drink, then took a deep swig. As Mikoto drained the glass, far faster than most others would dare to, Tatara couldn’t help but wince as he watched, but he supposed the alcohol wouldn’t burn the back of the Red King’s throat like it would anyone else’s.

Once the glass was empty, Tatara rinsed it out for him, then glanced up at the clock. “It’s getting late; you should get some sleep,” he said, making his way out from behind the bar.

“Mm,” Mikoto responded, but there was something in his tone that suggested that he either had no intention of sleeping, or didn’t believe he’d be able to. Nevertheless, he slid off the barstool and made his way over to the staircase, the soles of his shoes scuffing against the floor as he walked.

Tatara gave a soft sigh. As Mikoto passed him, he lifted his hand to waist height and curled his fingers into a loose fist, and instinctively, Mikoto withdrew his hand from his pocket to catch Tatara’s knuckles against his palm. He paused in his footsteps as their hands met and stood like that for a brief moment, then slid his fingers across the back of Tatara’s hand to close around his wrist, then continued towards the stairs with Tatara in tow.

“King?”

“Stay here tonight,” Mikoto’s voice was quieter than usual.

“Of course.”

“’S dangerous to walk home this late,” Mikoto seemed to add the statement as an afterthought, but his tone seemed lacklustre, as if he didn’t believe himself.

Tatara didn’t believe him either; he’d walked home from the bar dozens of times late in the evening without incident, and this was the second time in two weeks that Mikoto had used that excuse. Still, Tatara followed him up to his apartment without question, and took a seat on the couch beside Mikoto as he collapsed onto the cushions with a heavy sigh. They sat closer to one another than usual; Mikoto’s fingers were still wound around Tatara’s wrist, and the familiar staticky feeling returned to his skin wherever they were in contact.

They were content to stay like that for a few minutes, quietly enjoying each other’s company, until Mikoto let out a long yawn that he appeared to have been holding back for a while.

“Come on, you should get to bed, it’s been a long day” Tatara suggested, and Mikoto nodded. He hesitated for a moment before he released his grip on Tatara’s wrist, then got to his feet and padded over to the bathroom, snatching up his pyjama bottoms from the crumpled heap on the bed on the way.

Once the door was closed and Tatara was alone, the room almost seemed too quiet, despite the soft hiss of the tap running in the next room, so Tatara jumped at the sudden sound of his phone ringing. He paused for a moment to allow the jolt of adrenaline to subside before answering it.  

“Hello?”

“Totsuka-san, just checking in,” Izumo’s voice issued from the speaker. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, but I’m just going to lock the bar up and head straight home, no point coming up there and bothering you. Did Mikoto-san get home alright?”

“Yeah, he’s just getting ready for bed.”

“Good. I thought I’d give you a status update. The Rabbits came by to pick the strain up, and they sent for medical care for the human guy who didn’t make a run for it. The others scattered when it was clear they didn’t have a hope in hell o’ winning, but this one was out cold. Anyway, an ambulance came by to pick him up, paramedics say he’ll be fine, but he’s probably got a concussion, and some pretty nasty burns, but nothin’ that won’t heal.”

Tatara chewed his lip; he knew Mikoto wouldn’t take the news well.

“The Golds are dealing with coming up with a cover story; they were pretty understanding this time, considerin’ their grudge against Mikoto-san.”

“Mmhm,” Tatara agreed. The conflict between the two clans as a result of the events around the time Anna joined Homra had led to some frostiness in their relationship.

“I guess they figured because these thugs started the fight, they had it comin’ to ‘em, and I’m inclined to agree with ‘em. So just let Mikoto-san know it’s all sorted and he doesn’t have to worry.”

“Will do, thanks.”

“Well, I’ll let you guys get some sleep. Night.”

“Night,” Tatara replied. It was only once he’d already hung up that he realised Izumo had said “you guys” as though he knew Tatara was staying over, and he felt his cheeks warm, as though his cover had been blown. He had to force himself to take a deep breath.

 _It’s not weird for someone to stay over at their best friend’s place,_ he reasoned to himself. Especially when said friend’s room was directly above the bar where he spent most of his time, and it was already so late. Still, Mikoto was a private person, and it wasn’t like him to have sleepovers. Tatara shook the thought from his head; there was no way Izumo could have deduced his feelings from a sleepover.

Or, at least, that was what Tatara told himself. It wasn’t like it was commonplace for Mikoto to do something like this, and honestly, Tatara felt a little bit honoured that Mikoto had asked him to stay. It meant that Mikoto didn’t mind Tatara seeing him vulnerable, and that their last sleepover had made him feel at least somewhat better, enough so that he wanted to repeat it, despite what Tatara could only imagine were horrific nightmares. It was a privilege to have someone as private as the Red King let him in like this, and a relief to know it was within his powers to stem those night terrors. Mikoto had seemed so riled up when he got back to the bar, plagued by the guilt of hurting someone, even when most people would argue that his attacker had it coming. Tatara had been almost certain that he’d struggle to get to sleep, but his presence and the gentle physical reassurance had been enough to lull Mikoto into enough of a sense of security for him to allow himself to feel tired. Tatara took great pride in that, and a measure of comfort as well. This subtle demonstration of how important he was to Mikoto added another drop of fuel to his hopes that his feelings towards his friend might be requited. He knew that made him a little bit selfish, but he almost couldn’t bring himself to care.

It was only a few minutes after Izumo had hung up the phone that Mikoto emerged from the bathroom and sat down heavily on the mattress, letting out a low sigh as he did so. There was a sort of sluggishness in his movements as he walked; he seemed exhausted, but Tatara still had quite the struggle keeping his eyes off the bare skin of his chest until he pulled the covers over himself.  

“C’mere,” Mikoto said.

“Huh?”

“You ain’t sleepin’ on the couch.”

“Okay,” Tatara replied, doing his best to keep his voice from wavering as a flicker of anxiety tingled down his spine. He got up from the sofa and unbuttoned his shirt on the way over, feeling his heartbeat picking up as he did so. The last night they’d spent in the same bed was less than a fortnight ago, and the memories were still fresh in his mind; he could still conjure the smell of Mikoto’s sheets and the warmth of his skin in his mind, and the thoughts were endlessly distracting. Even just the memories made his pulse flutter as though he was some kind of love-struck schoolgirl, and they intruded on his headspace at the most inopportune of moments, no matter how hard he tried to shake them. He thought he was finally starting to calm down, to be reasonable with himself (after all, all they’d done was cuddle a bit) but the prospect of repeating the experience brought the feelings he was just about managing to suppress flooding back at full force all at once. He could hear his blood rushing in his ears. As he removed his shirt and set it on the bedside table, he thought he saw Mikoto’s gaze running down his chest, but he dismissed the notion as nonsense. Wishful thinking.

Tatara was lifting the corner of the sheets to climb into the bed when Mikoto spoke.

“You gonna sleep in those?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he gestured to Tatara’s trousers with a nod of his head.

“Hmm? Oh, no, I guess that wouldn’t be very comfortable,” Tatara responded with a nervous chuckle.

“I can give you something to put on instead,” Mikoto offered.

“It’s fine, I’d just get too warm anyway.”

“If you’re sure,” Mikoto replied, but he didn’t sound convinced. Tatara supposed the way his hands shook as he unfastened his fly wasn’t helping. “You alright?”

“Just a bit cold,” Tatara replied, forcing a smile as he stripped down to his underwear and hurriedly tucked himself under the covers. Internally, he berated himself for being so silly. It wasn’t like he’d never shown this much skin around Mikoto before; they’d been to the beach with Homra more than once, and swimming trunks didn’t cover much more than his boxer briefs did. But no matter what he tried to convince himself, he couldn’t slow his racing pulse.

The situation was only made worse when Mikoto shuffled across the bed towards him and wrapped his arm around his shoulder.

“H-huh?”

“You said you were cold,” Mikoto explained.

Tatara felt his cheeks burning at the intimacy, but snuggled up to Mikoto’s body heat nonetheless. Even though this wasn’t the first time they’d been like this, Tatara’s nerves were only made worse by the revelation about his feelings towards Mikoto, and the knowledge that he was actually awake this time. He felt goosebumps prickle across his skin wherever they were in contact, and with the lack of clothing and the way Mikoto had pulled him in against his chest, that ended up being most of his body. The smell of his skin, of cigarette smoke and soap and whiskey, was almost intoxicating.

“Who were you talking to earlier?” Mikoto asked, snapping Tatara out of his thoughts.

“Kusanagi-san. He called to say he was on his way over to lock the bar up, and then he was gonna go home.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“Mm. The Rabbits showed up and took the strain away, and they called an ambulance for the other guy, the one who didn’t run away. They said he was knocked out, and he had some burns, but he’ll be fine. So everything’s gonna be okay, nothing to sweat over.”

Mikoto didn’t respond, and Tatara turned over in his arms to face him.

“You alright?”

Mikoto shrugged.

“King, what’s wrong?”

“So the guy was pretty badly hurt, huh?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“My powers don’t exactly leave minor burns,” he pointed out.

“Well, no… but he attacked you, King, and you defended yourself and your best friend. That’s _okay._ Just because you’re strong doesn’t mean you should let yourself be a punching bag. They were bad people and they tried to hurt you; you’d be nuts if you didn’t fight back.”

“I didn’t just fight back,” Mikoto said with a sigh, reaching for a slightly battered box of cigarettes on the bedside table. He pulled one out, and Tatara reached up to light the tip with a click of his fingers. “I coulda killed them.”

“But you didn’t. Like Kusanagi-san said: they’ll be fine, it’s no big deal. Your powers are meant to protect, and that’s what you used them for.”

“It didn’t need to be as bad as it was.”

“And they didn’t need to attack you, but they did. Sometimes you underestimate your strength, it happens, but nobody died and nobody was injured so badly they’ll never recover, so it’s fine.”

Mikoto sighed, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. There was a sort of tension in his body; his muscles seemed to be wound taut, and there was a subtle pained expression in his eyes that nobody but Tatara would have picked up on. He almost looked afraid as he put his cigarette out in the ashtray on the bedside table, and Tatara felt a pang of sadness behind his ribs. It broke his heart that the only thing Mikoto was afraid of was himself.

Unsure what else to do, Tatara wound his arm around Mikoto’s waist and pressed his face into his shoulder. “It’s alright. Everything will be alright,” he murmured with complete confidence.

Mikoto gave a little nod as he pulled Tatara in closer, and Tatara could feel some of the tension falling out of his body.

“How are you always so convinced?” Mikoto mumbled. His voice was thick with sleepiness; he was a tired drunk, and Tatara supposed if he’d been out drinking all night he’d be starting to feel it by now.

“Because I know you, King. I know that no matter how bad things get, or how out of control you might feel, you’d never lose yourself.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“Well, I am. And I’m always here to be sure for you when you aren’t.”

When Mikoto didn’t say anything in response, Tatara lifted his head to look up at him, and he thought he saw the ghost of a smile flicker across his face beneath his tired eyes. Tatara couldn’t help but reply with a grin of his own. Mikoto gave a soft, almost relieved sigh as he lay his head down on the pillow beside Tatara’s, and let his eyelids slide closed. Despite how close together they were, so close that Tatara could feel Mikoto’s breath skimming across his lips, the nervousness that had coiled in a knot in his stomach had relaxed somewhat. He found it difficult to worry about something as trivial as his own jumpiness around his crush when Mikoto was in pain.

But that anxiety came thundering back as Mikoto shifted positions and, ever so softly and ever so briefly, closed the distance between their lips. So softly and so briefly Tatara wasn’t sure if it had really happened, but he could feel his skin tingling where it had touched Mikoto’s, and there was an odd sensation in his chest as his heartbeat recovered after it stumbled at the contact.

Mikoto’s eyes were closed, and his breathing was slow; he was asleep, but Tatara had never felt more awake in his life. Every one of his nerves felt electrified, and the sensation only felt stronger wherever Mikoto’s skin touched his own. He didn’t know if it had really been what he thought it was, if it really was a kiss, or if it was just an accident, if Mikoto had been awake, asleep, or dreaming… the questions, the unknowns, the possibilities and their consequences chased each other around his head at a million miles an hour, while every inch of his body felt like it was filled with static and his heartbeat was fluttering desperately, as though there was something constricting his chest. Mikoto looked so peaceful in the dim light filtering in through the un-lined curtains, the furrows in his forehead having smoothed out in his sleep, but Tatara felt anything but peaceful. His gaze kept wandering back towards Mikoto’s lips as he asked himself over and over again if that had been real, had Mikoto really kissed him, or had he just imagined it?

This was going to be a long night.


End file.
